


Vinctus

by CariadWinter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Healing, M/M, Major Character Injury, Soul Bond, Unexpected feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 09:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16531898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CariadWinter/pseuds/CariadWinter





	Vinctus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MemeKonYA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemeKonYA/gifts).



Harry listened to the rain patter against the window, his gaze staring beyond the glass but not seeing. The sound lulled him into a dreamlike trance, not awake, not asleep, but caught somewhere in between. 

Five years after the Second Great Wizarding War and Harry Potter was lost. His life had become a series of repetitions. Wake up, eat breakfast, shower, go to work, come home, eat dinner, go to sleep. He had a flat in London that he liked, friends and family to keep him busy whenever the days seemed too long, but Harry found his mind wandering all too often. He wondered, sometimes, if there shouldn’t be more. 

Love and marriage, he supposed, should have been the next logical step, but he’d never quite managed it. Ginny would have been the closest he’d come, but that had fizzled out before either of them had even realized it. The love had been there, of that he was certain, but they’d needed more than love. They’d needed passion and desire, that spark that would carry on even in the other’s absence. Instead, they’d found a friendship closer than even his friendship with Ron and Hermione. They cared for each other, would do anything for each other, but happily ever after just hadn’t been in their cards. 

Finding love elsewhere had proved difficult. People were more interested in his name and the things he’d done rather than actually getting to know Harry. It messed with his mind; caused him to doubt everyone in his life that didn’t already have a place there. Nothing was real anymore. Nothing but the loneliness.

A clap of thunder caused Harry to jump and he shook himself out of his thoughts. Days like this were the worst. When he wasn’t working, he was thinking and the last thing Harry needed to do was think. 

He stood, needing to move. If he stayed still for too long, he’d sink right back in.

 

* * *

 

After a fire whiskey at the Leaky Cauldron and a conversation with Neville, Harry wandered out into Diagon Alley. The rain had cleared, leaving London feeling somewhat cleaner and new, but there was a chill in the air. Fall was coming and with it, shorter days and longer nights.

Harry strolled down the nearly deserted street, cloak draped over his shoulder, perfectly relaxed and bordering on happy. Some of the shops had already closed for the evening, while others still glowed with warmth from inside. A witch around his age stepped out of Rosa Lee’s and shivered as she pulled her cloak around her shoulders. Another witch and a boy of maybe nine or ten disappeared into the bookstore.

A few shops more and Harry stopped, gazed caught on the tall, slender blonde coming out of Slug & Jiggers. It had been years since he’d seen Draco Malfoy. Years since anyone had seen him really. Malfoy had become a shut-in. He rarely left Malfoy Manor, so to see him now, quite out of the blue, it stopped Harry in his tracks. 

In the dim light, he couldn’t make out much, but Malfoy’s eyes looked sunken. The moonlight made him seemed paler somehow, wraith-like almost and it made Harry shiver.

Malfoy spotted him and stilled as well.

Neither of them spoke.

Time slowed, seconds turning into minutes, and when Harry finally blinked, Malfoy was gone. He blinked again, wondered for half a breath if his eyes had been playing tricks on him, but then spotted the other man moving quickly down the street in the opposite direction. 

Harry took a step in the same direction, heart pounding frantically in his chest, and he realized that he was actually contemplating following him. The question was, why? Why would he follow Malfoy? To speak to him? What would he possibly have to say? But then Malfoy vanished and even if Harry decided to follow he couldn’t. 

Harry’s gaze darted around the darkening street, searching for a moment, and then he blew out an exasperated breath and shook his head. Clearly, the fire whiskey was playing with his head. 

He turned away, tugged his cloak over his shoulders, and headed back the way he’d come. He needed sleep. That was all. Tomorrow would be a better day.

Only… the next day wasn’t a better day. It was simply more of the same and Harry couldn’t forget. For days afterward, Harry dreamt of that moment in Diagon Alley. He stood and stared, watched as that ghost from his past moved along the street and no one noticed but him. 

What had happened to him? What had turned the once haughty and proud Draco Malfoy into a shell of the man he remembered? And why was it so damned important to him? Why did Harry even care? Why? Why? Fucking why?

Harry broke down two weeks later and scribbled out one sentence on a bit of parchment. 

_ What happened to you? _

He sealed it in an envelope and sent it before he could stop himself, then regretted it the second his owl flew away into the dark. 

Another two weeks passed before a response came and when it did, Harry felt he could breathe again.

_ Does it matter? _ Was Draco’s only response.

Harry’s hand sat motionless in his lap, the letter clutched between his fingers. Did it? Obviously, it mattered to Harry if he’d taken the time to send an owl in the first place. But why? Why did it matter?

He took the night to think about it and realized that it didn’t matter why he cared, only that he did care. So, the next morning before work, Harry scribbled out a response.

_ Yes. It does. _

The message was short and to the point and Harry only hoped that Malfoy didn’t ask him to elaborate. He didn’t know why he cared what happened to him. He couldn’t explain it even to himself. But he did care and that was enough.

Harry needn’t have worried. Malfoy didn’t ask him to explain.  He simply responded with…

_ Life happened, Potter. The same as it happened to everyone else. No need for you to worry yourself. Not that you ever would. I expect all of this is simply to appease your curiosity. Consider it quenched. _

Harry smiled sadly. Of course, Malfoy would think that. If Harry were honest with himself, he would think the same had their roles been reversed. There was no reason for Harry to care about Malfoy. They were not friends. Malfoy had made certain that Harry’s school years were as close to hell as he could make them.

And yet, something still drew Harry in. People could change, couldn’t they? If anyone was proof of that, Malfoy was. He’d saved Harry’s life during the war. He’d even tried to stop Crabbe and Goyle from killing him there at the end. 

So, if Malfoy could change, couldn’t Harry forgive? Could he leave the past to the past?

Harry licked his lips, then nibbled at the bottom one as he contemplated his next move. He could drop the whole thing. Consider his curiosity quenched as Malfoy had stated. Or…

He moved to sit at his desk and pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment.

_ I still have nightmares. All these years later and I still can’t make it through the night without waking in a cold sweat. Sometimes I close my eyes and I’m back in that clearing, waiting to die. _

_ The truth is, Malfoy, I don’t know why I’m writing to you. It’s not simply curiosity. It’s not even to be cruel or mean. I just, that night in Diagon Alley... I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. About you. These past weeks, instead of Voldemort and the war haunting my dreams, it’s been you. _

_ Maybe I’m just going crazy and you’ll be laughing at me when you read this. Maybe you’ll think I’m full of shite and hate me even more. I don’t know. I just know that, for whatever reason, I care. I want to know why you hide yourself away. I want to know why you looked like a ghost. I want to know… why I care at all. _

Harry read the letter twice, thought about tossing it in the bin, then folded it, placed it in an envelope and sent it. Maybe this was him losing his mind. Ron and Hermione certainly wouldn’t understand. But he’d started something now and he had every intention of finishing it.

 

* * *

 

Weeks passed again and just when Harry had convinced himself that Malfoy had written him off, another letter arrived. Malfoy had nightmares too. He dreamt of Voldemort and Greyback, of the sounds of torture and suffering that would echo through the halls of his home. He’d not slept well since long before the war had started in earnest. In truth, Malfoy felt as though he hadn’t slept in years. Instead, he stayed up at night and slept when he could during the day. 

Harry’s heart cried for him. Not once, in the years since Hogwarts, had he wondered what it had been like for anyone on the other side. There’d simply been that line of good vs. evil, right vs. wrong. And now, all of the lines were gone. Replaced by shared trauma and fractured lives.

Letter after letter, they wrote to each other and life carried on much the same. Weeks passed. Months. A year. Harry woke up in the morning, showered, ate breakfast, responded to Draco’s latest letter, went to work, came home, ate dinner, read Draco’s response, went to sleep. He felt fuller somehow, despite such a small change; connected in a way he hadn’t felt connected before.

Yes, Ron and Hermione knew what Harry had gone through for so long. They’d been right there with him. And yes, he could talk to them about it. He could talk to them about anything and he knew he could. Their trio had changed though. They were no longer Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They were Ron and Hermione… and Harry. They depended on each other, leaned on each other, shared their lives with each other. Harry was still their friend, yes, but they shared an intimacy that Harry did not share with them. 

Now, Harry had that with Draco, of all people, and he was better for it. They shared their day with each other, shared their accomplishments and setbacks. Shared their dreams and their nightmares. And even though it was only through letters, it was enough.

Until one day, Draco’s letter never came. 

Harry thought nothing of it at first. They’d missed a day here and there before.  But then the next day came and went, then another and another until a week had passed with no word.

Harry sent a new letter; worry clouding his thoughts and driving him to distraction. No response came. He sent another and another until a second week had come and gone. 

Finally, when his worry was enough to cause Ron to start questioning Harry’s moods, Harry made up his mind. If something had happened to Draco, he needed to know. If Draco had simply decided enough was enough, he needed to know. And that meant a trip to Malfoy Manor.

 

* * *

 

Apparating to the Manor put Harry on edge. The last time he’d been there, Hermione had been tortured and Dobby had died. It was the last place he wanted to be. And the only place if Draco was inside.

The wards stopped him at the gate and Narcissa appeared a few moments later. She stared at him, expression disapproving but not surprised.

“I was wondering when you’d show,” she said by way of greeting and Harry arched an eyebrow at her.

“You were expecting me?” he asked, clearly taken aback.

Narcissa smiled. “My son keeps nothing from me, Mr. Potter. I’ve known about your… correspondence since the start.”

Harry licked his lips nervously and cleared his throat. “I haven’t heard from him in a few weeks,” he told her. “I was worried when he didn’t respond to my owls.”

Narcissa’s expression shifted then, from disapproving to haunted. “I am certain he would if he could, Mr. Potter,” she revealed. “But he cannot. There was an accident in his laboratory. An experiment that went awry. My son has been…” A shadow of pain and something akin to terror swept across her face. “He’s been under a healer’s care. Perhaps when he is well, he will respond.”

She turned to go and Harry panicked. 

“Wait!” he yelled, unable to process fully the information she’d just shared with him but he knew he couldn’t leave without seeing Draco for himself. 

Narcissa turned back to him, one pristine eyebrow arched high on her face.

“May I see him?” Harry asked, stepping in close to the gate. “Please.”  

She looked as though she would turn him away, but then something softened about her and Narcissa nodded, the gate opening to allow him entrance. 

“Perhaps it would do my son some good to hear your voice,” she told him. “Your letters have put a smile on Draco’s face, much to my husband’s dismay.”

Harry smiled at that and followed quietly as she led him inside.

 

* * *

 

Walking into Malfoy Manor again was like having ice water poured over his head. Harry felt the chill of it down to his bones. He didn’t want to be there. He wanted to run as soon as they reached the front room. 

Instead, he followed along silently; up the stairs and down a long corridor until they reached what he assumed was Draco’s room. At the opening of the door, Harry found himself in a small sitting room. Lucius Malfoy was there along with a woman that was most likely the healer. 

Lucius glared at him as soon as he stepped through the door. “What the devil is he doing here?” he snarled and Narcissa raised her hand to still him.

“Draco would want to see him,” she told him.

A vein in the elder Malfoy’s forehead pulsed; looked as though it were dangerously close to bursting. “He will not get anywhere near our son! Do you hear me, Narcissa?”

Lucius turned his hate-filled glare to Harry then and sneered, “get out of my house!”

Narcissa’s raised hand pressed into her husband’s chest and he looked at her. “This is my house too, Lucius and our son is ill. Whether you like it or not, having Mr. Potter here may make a difference. You will not deny him that. Not now.”

Harry simply watched the exchange for a moment, then moved past them while they were both distracted. Across the room, double doors stood open to reveal Draco’s bedroom. His old rival lay silent and still on the large four poster bed at its center. 

Heart skipping a beat, Harry moved quietly into the room and around the bed until he was at Draco’s side. The other man was pale, sweat causing his fine blonde hair to stick to his forehead. His hands, that lay over the top of the duvet, were wrapped in gauze.

He looked, in a word, like death.

“Draco,” Harry murmured softly and settled on the edge of the bed. He wanted to reach for the other man’s hand but dared not touch him for fear of hurting him.

Draco’s eyes moved beneath his lids and he whimpered softly, but did not wake.

“He’s been unconscious since the accident,” came Narcissa’s voice from behind him. “We aren’t certain what he was working on. He’s been so secretive about his experiments. I was hoping that perhaps he may have told you.”

Harry shook his head. “I knew he was dabbling in alchemy, but he never gave me any specifics. He said he was doing some potions work as well, but never talked about ingredients or methods.” He shook his head again. “There were no clues in his laboratory? Nothing that would hint at what he was doing?”

“There was an explosion. It destroyed most of Draco’s work,” she told him. “He was lucky it didn’t kill him. Most of the damage done to his body was caused by the fire. The healer was able to heal most of it. His arms and hands though, that was magic. Whatever is keeping him in this withering state is magic. And whatever it is, they can’t reverse it.”

Harry felt himself nod though he didn’t mean to. He felt as though something vital had been ripped from him and he was suddenly sinking, falling back into that emptiness that had clung to him before.

“Will it kill him?” he asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Narcissa didn’t answer right away and Harry supposed that in and of itself was answer enough.

“Without knowing what’s killing him, they don’t know how to stop it,” Narcissa finally said and Harry nodded again.

He reached out, not to take Draco’s hand but to smooth the damp hair away from his face. “Thank you for letting me see him. I know… I know you had no reason to.”

“Of course I did,” Narcissa insisted. “You made Draco happy. My son locked himself behind these walls and away from the world because of the choices Lucius and I made. It was easier for him here, but also lonely. You offered him a way out, even if it was just through your letters. He’d be happy you’re here.”

“May I stay with him for a while?” he asked as he brushed his thumb across Draco’s clammy cheek. 

“Take your time,” Narcissa told him. “You are welcome here for as long as he needs you.”

Harry nodded one last time, thanked her, and then listened as she pulled the doors closed behind her. He could hear Lucius arguing with her beyond, but soon even their voices silenced and Harry and Draco were truly alone.

He sat with Draco late into the night; talked to him, wandered around the room until he had a picture of the other man in his head. Harry’s pictured Draco’s life once or twice in the time he’d known him. He’d wondered what it must have been like to be raised here, to live in such a grand house, to want for nothing. 

But what had the trade-off been? As much as Harry knew Draco loved his family, the end result of a life raised as a Malfoy was one Harry wasn’t terribly impressed with. Narcissa and Lucius both loved their son. The war had proven that. But they’d both been cold and aloof. Draco had love in him. He cared beyond what he showed others. But their lack of warmth and affection had shaped Draco’s life. They’d turned him into the boy Harry had known. They’d led him here and a part of him hated them for that. A part of him wondered if perhaps things might have been different for all of them. 

“Things could still be different,” Harry stated softly. “All of this could be different, but you have to fight, Draco. You have to fight like I know you’re capable of doing. I’ve seen the hard choices you’ve had to make and almost every time it really counted, you did the right thing. Now I just need you to do that again. I need for you to fight. At least until I can figure out a way to save you.”

The door opened behind him and Harry turned to see Narcissa walk into the room. 

“It’s late,” she told him. “I’ve had a room made up for you if you’d like to stay.”

Harry’s eyes widened a little. “I… thank you. That’s very generous of you.”

Narcissa gave a nod of her head and moved around to Draco’s other side. “He seems calmer somehow, with you here.” She brushed her son’s hair back from his face. “The offer is for him, not for you.”

Harry nodded. “Of course.”

Narcissa looked at him, narrowed her eyes as though she were attempting to see right to the heart of him. “What is there between you and my son?”

The question caught him off guard and it took him a moment to really think about it. “Friendship,” he told her. “Understanding. I didn’t think it would have ever been possible, but here we are.”

Narcissa pressed a kiss to Draco’s forehead, then stood. “Nothing more?” she asked, her gaze moving back to Harry.

He could play stupid and pretend that he didn’t know what she was talking about, but he did. You didn’t write to someone almost every day for a year and not have the question run through your mind. You didn’t feel the way Harry felt when Draco suddenly disappeared and not ask yourself the same. 

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “I know I was scared to think of him not being here anymore. It felt like I’d lost a piece of myself.”

Harry stood as well and followed her to the door. “I’m not sure what that means though. I’ve never really questioned it before now.”

Narcissa stopped and turned to him, stared at him for a moment again, and then seemed to straighten somehow. 

“I think,” she began, her eyes drifting over Harry’s shoulder to Draco for a second, “I think he was trying to find a way to remove his mark.”

Harry’s heart thudded hard in his chest.

“The books he was reading, the way he spoke about you…” Narcissa looked back to Harry and it was all there written on her face; fear, love, doubt. “I think he believed he had no place in your world as long as the scars remained. I think my son felt a great deal for you, Harry Potter. More than he would ever admit out loud.”

“If you knew this, why ask me what he was working on?” Harry asked, the beginnings of anger mixing with his shock and confusion. “Why not tell the healer? Why play dumb?”

Narcissa’s open expression shuttered and her usual cold countenance returned. “Do you think me a fool, Potter?” she snapped, her words as sharp as razor blades. “I did inform the healer. He’s been working to reverse Draco’s condition for weeks. I was simply hoping for confirmation. I had hoped that you would tell me I was right. That we’ve not been working in vain these last few days.”

Harry shook his head, not fully grasping what she was telling him. “Why would he try something so stupid? Everyone knows that magical marks are irremovable. Once they are there, they are there for life. To even attempt to remove it would take…”

“Magic more powerful than what my son could handle,” Narcissa stated plainly. “Magic volatile at best and now he’s paying the price.”

Harry turned back to him, his gaze tracing over Draco’s prone form. 

“He asked me once if the magic of a thing was neutralized, could it be dispelled or removed liked anything else,” she continued. “I think Draco thought that if he neutralized the magic of the mark, he could heal himself. Remove the scar. Cut the tie to the Dark Lord once and for all.”

“The tie was broken with Voldemort the second he died,” Harry hissed, uncertain of who he was more angry at, Draco’s parents for putting him in this position, Voldemort for being an insane maniac, or Draco for being so stupid.

“But the mark remains,” Narcissa pointed out. “As does the stigma and shame. Draco never wanted any of it. He simply… wanted to please us. He was afraid of what would happen if he didn’t follow. We all were.”

“So whatever spell he used backfired? Is that what you’re telling me?” he asked, turning around to face her. “He tried to drain the magic of the mark and instead it’s draining Draco’s magic?”

Narcissa shook her head. “Draco could survive without magic. Muggles are proof of that. Whatever my son did, whatever spell he used or potion he brewed, it’s draining his life force. It’s… it’s…”

“Like a dementor’s kiss?” Harry supplied and though Narcissa paled a little, she nodded.

“Yes. Just like a dementor’s kiss.”

Harry turned to look at him again and his heart ached in his chest. “His soul is dying.”

“Yes,” Narcissa confirmed quietly.

“And there’s no way to reverse it,” he stated more than asked. Narcissa answered anyway.

“Not that the healer can find. No.”

“And that’s why you let me see him. Why you let me sit with him and why you are letting me stay,” Harry mumbled. “Because he’s dying and you think this is what he would have wanted.”

“I…” Narcissa’s voice broke and Harry turned to look at her again. There were tears in her eyes. “You beat death once, Mr. Potter. I was hoping that perhaps you could do it again.”

And there it was. Narcissa was hoping Harry would save him. She was hoping that he could do what no one else could do. 

“I had no control over what happened in that clearing,” he told her. “Voldemort did that. He turned me into a Horcrux the night he killed my parents and the only reason I’m still alive is because he tied his soul to mine. What he did in that clearing, was kill himself, not me.”

Narcissa seemed to shrink a little. Her shoulders drooped and the hopeful gleam in her eyes faded. “I see,” she began and turned back towards the door. “If you’ll follow me, I can show you to your room.”

Her voice trailed off as she headed to the door, but Harry was frozen where he stood. He wondered… but no, it was insane to think that…

He turned back to Draco, wandered back to the foot of the bed, and asked himself if he was really contemplating what he thought he was. 

“Mr. Potter?” Narcissa called, but Harry didn’t move.

“Would you want that life, Draco?” Harry whispered. “Would you hate me for it?”

Voldemort had found a way to tie each member of his inner circle to him. Their lives, not completely, but to some extent had been tied to his own. Before that, a young Tom Riddle had discovered a way to divide his soul. All this had been done in the name of power and immortality. And if the dark existed, then would it not stand to reason that the light did as well? Was there a way to bind two souls together for the good and not for evil?

“Mr. Potter?” Narcissa called again, her voice closer this time.

“I’m going to need access to your library,” Harry told her. “Every book. Even the ones you don’t want me to see.”

Narcissa didn’t answer right away. The only sound that could be heard between them was the labored sounds of Draco’s breathing. And then… “Whatever you need, you’ll have,” she promised.

Harry nodded and turned away from Draco’s bed.

“Take me there now,” he told her and she nodded, turned, and he followed.

 

* * *

 

The idea that two people, two souls, could be tied together was tricky. Where dark magic was concerned, most of the spells and rituals were fairly straightforward. Sacrifice x to achieve y. Where light magic was concerned, however, binding rituals and soul bonds was a very gray area. 

A sacrifice still had to be made and in essence, it did require a life, much like a Horcrux, but the dynamics of the spell were completely different. Murder and/or an immediate death was not required. The soul would not be fractured, and the castor did not have to be the ailing party. However, a price would have to be paid eventually and to bind two souls together there must already be an existing connection. The souls had to be compatible… and willing.

“Well?” The single word was uttered with so much disdain that Harry decided it could only be Lucius. 

He looked up, found the man standing just beyond the doorway to the library, and sighed. “Well,” Harry began tiredly, “it’s complicated.”

Lucius’ upper lip curled, his expression morphing from frustration to blatant disgust. “Of course it’s complicated you insolent child,” he sneered. “Nothing about magic is ever simple is it?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at the man. His instinct was to snap back, to fight, but he’d gotten far too little sleep over the past few days and just didn’t have it in him. Instead, he gathered the book he’d been reading over for the past hour and stood on shaky legs.

“Can we pretend, for Draco’s sake, that we don’t hate each other?” Harry requested with a matter-of-fact tone that he was surprised he could muster at the moment. “Because I am here to help him, you know. And you. So why don’t you back off and let me do it?”

Lucius opened his mouth, body drawing up and forward as though he were ready to attack Harry where he stood and Harry just watched him, unperturbed by the physical display. Self-preservation or common sense must have kicked in a second later because the elder Malfoy backed off, expression shuttering to one of grudging acceptance. 

“Excellent,” Harry mumbled and walked past him, uncaring if the man followed or not.

Harry made his way up from the second floor to the third and deep into the east wing where Draco’s chamber lay. There he found Narcissa in the sitting room, looking as exhausted as Harry felt.

“Anything?” she inquired when he came through the door and Harry nodded.

“Possibly, but…”

“It’s complicated,” came Lucius’ voice directly behind him.

Harry suppressed a snort and moved further into the room. Lucius entered as well and moved to stand at his wife’s side.  Harry took that as all the cue he was going to get and laid the book out on the coffee table that stood between them.

“It’s possible for someone to bind Draco’s life to their own,” he began, “without the use of dark magic. It’s, well, it’s similar to an Unbreakable Vow. Very similar actually. His life force would be tied to another’s and, if all requirements of the ritual are met, it should keep him alive. For now.”

“For now?” Narcissa interjected and Harry nodded.

“Binding two souls together does not immortality make,” Harry clarified. “One life would be dependant on the other. So…”

“If one dies, then so does the other,” Lucius supplied and again, Harry nodded.

“Essentially, yes,” Harry confirmed. “Draco is already dying. He needs someone else’s life force to sustain him. Once that connection is made, if he were to lose it, his body would continue to wither and die.”

“And if Draco were to… die… after the bond has been completed?” Narcissa asked. Harry could hear the hope in her voice and it bolstered him somehow.

“Then the person he is bonded to will eventually wither and die as well. Once the connection is solidified, it cannot be broken by anything but death. They are essentially sharing half of their life with him. It will be gone. Game over. One dies, they both die.”

“But it also works in reverse? As long as one lives, they both live?” Narcissa stated and Harry nodded again. 

“Yes. From my understanding, they could both live very long and happy lives,” Harry replied. “Only…”

“Complicated?” Lucius drawled, sounding as though he’d been waiting for the catch and Harry forced himself not to glare at the man. 

“Yes,” Harry said again and cleared his throat. “The two souls… they have to be compatible or the ritual won’t work. Both parties must be willing and compatible.”

Narcissa’s shoulders slumped a little and she looked towards the opened doors to Draco’s bedroom. “How will we know if he’s willing if he cannot speak?”

Harry shook his head and sighed. “I don’t know. We’d just have to perform the ritual and hope that it works.”

“Hope that it works?” Lucius sneered. “This is my son’s life we’re talking about! We don’t have time to be anything but certain!”

“Well, we aren’t, Lucius!” Harry bellowed back. He was exhausted and heartsick and stretched too thin between the two. “There’s no way to be certain because Draco can’t speak for himself! Believe me, I wish there was another way and if there is one, please, tell me! Because we’re working on time he doesn’t have and I don’t have anything better!”

The corners of Narcissa’s mouth curled up at Harry’s outburst and Lucius simply gawked at him, mouth open, eyes wide. Harry glanced between the two of them, heart pounding and head throbbing. He needed sleep before he either fell over or one of them hexed his bits off.

“Look,” he sighed and held up his hands, “why don’t the two of you discuss your options and we can all make a decision in the morning. I’m going to bed.”

Harry walked away from the two of them without another word, first to check on Draco and then out of the room completely and down the hall into his own. He couldn’t argue about it any longer and they were past the point of him asking for permission. 

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Harry found that he couldn’t get himself out of bed right away. Part of it was that he was still exhausted. He’d gone for too long without even halfway decent sleep and his body was fighting him now. The other was plain and simple fear. He’d found a solution and there was every chance that either Draco’s parents would reject the solution or the ritual simply wouldn’t work. Either way, there was a very real possibility that Draco wouldn’t last much longer and Harry wasn’t entirely certain he could deal with that. He’d lost enough people in his life. He didn’t want to lose another.

A soft knock at the door made the decision for him and Harry grunted as he sat up in bed. “Come in,” he called.

Lucius entered a second later and Harry blinked at him, surprised to see Mr. Malfoy and not missus. The elder Malfoy didn’t look comfortable at all and Harry smiled at that.

“Morning,” he greeted. Lucius frowned.

“Are you certain this is the only way?” Lucius inquired. “There’s no other?”

Harry shrugged a shoulder. “We could take him to a muggle hospital and have them hook him up to machines,” he suggested and Lucius immediately scoffed at the idea of it. “It’s another option. The machines would breathe for him but I can’t promise they would keep his heart beating.”

“No,” Lucius denied. “Absolutely not.”

Harry gave a nod. “We could place him in a state of suspended animation. The spell would perfectly preserve him as he is and could grant us more time to find another solution if there is one. But again, who knows if it would actually work and if there will be another solution.”

Lucius merely frowned at that one and Harry sighed.

“Then yes, I’m certain there is no other way,” Harry told him. “Not one I can find anyway. And not one that doesn’t require Draco to cast the spell or perform the ritual himself.”

After a second’s hesitation, Lucius nodded. “Then I’ll be the one to do it. We can tie Draco’s soul to mine.”

Harry arched an eyebrow at him.

“What?” Lucius asked, looking mildly offended. “You don’t think my son would accept his father in the ritual?”

“No,” Harry countered with a shake of his head. “I’m sure the ritual would work fine. It’s only, well, you’d be denying him half of his life. He’s young and, not to be insulting but, you’re old. When you die and let’s be honest here, a lot of things could happen to you, Draco goes with you.”

Lucius looked equally offended and deflated. “And what would your suggestion be, Potter?”

Harry didn't need to think about it. He’d been thinking about it since the idea had formed in his head. “Me,” he said and Lucius’ eyes widened.

“You? Why would my son be compatible with you?”

Harry gave another shrug of his shoulders and chuckled softly. “Because as different as we are, I think his soul would recognize and accept mine. Our lives have been shaped around the same fundamental thing… love.”

“Love?” Lucius echoed with more than a bit of surprise.

Harry nodded. “Everything that Draco did, he did out of love for his family. He might not have agreed with everything you and your wife believed in and yes, one of the driving forces behind Draco’s actions was fear, but mostly he did the things he did because he loved the both of you. He wanted to protect you. He wanted your love and acceptance and protection in return. So yes, love.”

Lucius seemed to contemplate Harry’s words for a while and then gave a nod of his own. “Once the ritual is performed, it won’t tie him to you in any other way?”

“As far as I can tell, no,” he assured him. “Draco will be free to live his life how he wants it… as long as he doesn’t put himself in any unnecessary danger. He will, after all, be responsible for my life as well.”

“And you’d be okay with that?” Lucius asked, again sounding surprised at Harry’s willingness to do this. “You’d trust your life to Draco? To a Malfoy? After everything?”

Harry exhaled slowly through his nose and nodded. “I suppose I am. I trust that Draco wants to live just as much as I do and I trust that you will have more than enough motivation to keep us that way. Because if I suffer, so does he. My life fades, even a little, so does his.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes at him, perhaps calculating his options, then squared his shoulders and nodded. “Very well. What needs to be done?”

“It’s surprisingly simple actually. Much like a dementor’s kiss, our souls will need to be called from our bodies, bound with an unbreakable spell, then divided and placed back inside. If Draco’s soul is willing and mine compatible, he should wake up shortly thereafter.”

“That doesn’t sound simple at all,” Lucius countered and Harry shrugged.

“There is the possibility that the spell could go horribly wrong and we’d both die,” Harry told him as he tossed the covers back and climbed out of bed. “But then that just means that you’d get what you’ve always wanted, Lucius.” Harry looked at him, grinning despite the real fear he felt at the prospect of dying. Again. “Me out of your life forever.”

Lucius arched an eyebrow at him, clearly unamused. “That is not even remotely funny, Potter,” the elder Malfoy stated. “And it’s Mr. Malfoy to you.”

Harry snorted and moved off towards the bathroom. “Let me shower and get dressed. Then we can get everything set up.”

He didn’t wait for any reply that might come; simply gathered a fresh change of clothes and his toiletry bag. A second later the door opened and closed and Lucius was gone. Harry paused to blow out a shaky exhale. He’d also need to compose letters for Kingsley, the Weasleys, and Teddy. If something did go wrong, he wanted them to know that he’d done this of his own free will and no backlash was to befall the Malfoys. They’d lose enough if things went wrong.

 

* * *

 

Once the letters were written and Harry had made peace with everything that was about to happen, he spent some time with Draco while Lucius and Narcissa prepared. 

“I’m not sure what’s about to happen here,” he told him; perched on the edge of the bed at Draco’s side. “Either way, I’m certain you won’t like it. I mean, I know we’ve sort of become friends through our owls, but this is different. It’s permanent. Something neither of us can change.”

He picked at the seam of his jeans absently, gaze focused on one of the large posts of the four-poster bed. “Nothing has to change though. I mean, you won’t be tied to me in any other way. You can live your life however you want and I’ll live mine. I just, you have to take better care of yourself from now on. No more crazy experiments. No more putting yourself in danger… which isn’t really fair because I can’t promise the same but… at least try.”

Harry stood and smoothed his palms down across the front of his jeans before taking in a deep, steadying breath. “And… try not to hate me so much when you wake up. Okay?”

He nodded and moved to the opposite side of the bed where he’d have to lay for the ritual. Draco couldn’t be moved, so there would be as good a place as any, though Ron would probably die as well if things went wrong and Harry died in Draco’s bed. Harry just really hoped that wasn’t where this was headed.

Narcissa and Lucius joined them a little while later and Harry laid himself down on the bed. He reached out and carefully took one of Draco’s bandaged hands in his, then nodded to the two of them once everything was ready.

“Just, whatever you do, don’t lose focus during the bonding while our souls are out of our bodies. If that goes well, then everything should be fine,” he told them and Lucius nodded.

Harry nodded as well, then closed his eyes and tried to relax. It would be easy to tense up, brace for what was coming because he’d felt it before, but he didn’t want that. He wanted this to go as smoothly as possible.

When Lucius began to chant, Harry felt the first tug of his life force being pulled from him and the world slipped down into darkness.

 

* * *

 

The next time Harry woke, it was to the sight of Narcissa Malfoy standing over him. Harry’s heart seized, threatened to toss him back down into a living nightmare and the only thing that stopped his panic was the woman’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she told him. “You’re safe. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to check on you both.”

Harry blinked up at her, waited for his lungs to remember how to draw a breath, and then he turned his gaze to the man lying beside him. Draco was still sleeping, but he looked more peaceful now.

“Did it work?” he asked, looking back to Narcissa.

She nodded. “We think so.” Narcissa moved around the bed to sit at her son’s side. “His fever broke a little while ago and his color’s back to normal. One of the healers is on the way to check on him. We should know more then.”

Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position and the room spun around him. He felt as he always did after an attack from a dementor, drained and off balance.

“Do you have any chocolate?” he asked, then smiled at her questioning glance. “It helps with the after effects.”

“Ah,” she said with a small smile and nodded. “I’ll have some brought up. I’m sure Draco will need a bit as well.”

Harry shifted himself to the edge of the bed, waited for the world to stop spinning before he stood. “I’m just going to,” he motioned to the door as he began to walk. “Will you let me know if anything changes?”

Narcissa nodded but a raspy, “Potter?” stopped Harry in his tracks.

His heart leaped into his throat and it took Harry a moment to turn and glance back at the bed. Draco’s eyes were open and he was staring at him.

“You’re awake,” Harry stated and after all the time he’d spent in this room, he still wasn’t ready for this conversation.

“Clearly,” Draco shot back and then the blonde squawked a little when his mother wrapped him up in a tight embrace.

“Oh my dear boy,” she murmured into Draco’s hair. Harry used that moment to escape.

He walked as quickly as he could manage back to his room and dropped himself down into a tall, wingback chair by the window. If he packed now he could be home before dinner. But then, Harry wasn’t one-hundred percent sure he’d be able to apparate on his own. Flooing back to his flat was out of the question considering Harry’s fireplace wasn’t connected to the network, but he could floo to the ministry and then take the Knight bus home. 

All of it seemed like an awful lot of work at the moment though and Harry mentally shook himself. Why was he panicking all of the sudden? Was he really so afraid of Draco’s reaction? Did it change anything for them? Would they be right back to where they started?

Harry’s eyelids dipped and while the burst of adrenaline had been enough to get him back to his room, it wasn’t enough to keep him from nodding off there in the chair. 

 

* * *

 

A small, silver tray of chocolates greeted Harry when he woke up from his nap. The tray was sat along the windowsill and a blanket had been placed over him. It was soft and warm and Harry snuggled into it before he could think better about it. 

The world beyond the window had fallen into darkness and he realized that the day had come and gone. A fire was lit in the fireplace, the smell of piping hot tea drifted to him from the small table not too far away, and Draco Malfoy was sat in the chair across from him.

“You should be in bed,” Harry croaked, then sat a little straighter in the chair and cleared his throat. His neck was killing him.

“So I’ve been told,” Draco replied. “My parents told me what happened.”

“Did they? You, uh, did quite a number on yourself,” Harry said, sounding evasive even to himself.

Draco continued to stare at him. “Did you really have them put half of your soul into me?”

“Well, I mean…” he fumbled for the right way of explaining it and what came out was, “it’s not really half. You still have your own soul. Mine’s just… helping yours out.”

Merlin, please let the floor open up and swallow him whole.

“You tied your soul to mine to save my life,” Draco stated and when Harry stopped freaking out long enough to really look at the other man, he realized that Draco looked awed. “Why in Merlin’s name would you do that, Potter? Are you daft?”

Harry’s mouth worked silently for a second and then his brow furrowed. “Is that how you thank someone for saving your life, Malfoy? By insulting them?”

“Only if I’m questioning their intelligence at the same time,” Draco fired back.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, scathing retort on the tip of his tongue, and then he realized that Draco was smiling.

“Oh, you, arsehole,” Harry breathed out with a sigh of relief and Draco’s smile grew. “I thought…”

“Thank you,” Draco said softly, “for saving my life. I don’t really understand why you did it.”

Harry offered a small smile of his own and looked down to his fidgeting hands in his lap. “You’re my friend, Draco.”

Draco snorted softly, then drew in a slow, trembling breath. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted that to be true?’

“Yeah well,” Harry said with a bit of a chuckle as he scrubbed at the back of his neck, “it is true. We’ve grown up, Draco. Become different people. People who actually like each other.”

Draco snorted again. “It was never that I didn’t like you, Potter. I was jealous of you. I wanted what you had; your friendships and your instant ability to do everything right. I felt… inferior.”

Harry’s pulse skipped a beat and he swallowed past the lump forming in his throat. “We’re sort of sharing a soul now, Draco. You think maybe we could at least be on a first name basis?”

Draco sighed and nodded. “Harry,” he said softly and Harry’s pulse skipped again.

“I never meant for you to feel inferior, Draco. I didn’t choose to be who I was. Hell, before Hogwarts, I was no one. I lived in a broom cupboard and played servant boy to a family who hated me.” Harry licked his lips nervously and picked at a bit of torn cuticle on his thumb.

“You were always someone special, Harry,” Draco told him. “You just didn’t know it yet.”

Harry looked up at the man across from him and the sheer amount of emotion swelling in his chest made him feel as though he might burst. “How about we both agree to just put the past behind us? Start fresh. You and I. Friends.”

Draco smiled at that. “And if that wasn’t enough for me?” he asked, causing warmth to blossom in Harry’s cheeks.

“Then… I’d ask you what would be enough,” Harry replied slowly, his nerves turning into butterflies in his stomach.

“Dinner?” Draco offered. “With the possibility of more?”

The world was spinning now and Harry was certain that he was either flying or falling.

“More?” he asked.

Draco stood slowly, still seeming a bit weak from all that had happened over these last few weeks, and he closed the few steps it took to put him into Harry’s personal space. Harry sucked in a sharp breath as the man leaned down and with his eyes open, Draco kissed him.

It was gentle and chaste, just a barely there press of lips that sent Harry’s heart tumbling away into the bright, shining possibility of things to come.

“More,” Draco whispered when they parted. 

“It’ll be complicated,” Harry murmured and Draco nodded.

“When have we not been complicated?”

Harry smiled. “Our families will never understand.”

Draco grinned and straightened. “Then we’ll just have to make them, won’t we?” he said as he turned and headed for the door.

“Don’t you want my answer?” Harry asked, his feelings of elation and confusion leaving him slightly off-kilter. 

“You gave me your answer already,” Draco told him as he opened the door to Harry’s room, “when you gave me your soul.”

Harry sank further into the chair and smiled at that. “Yes,” he told him. “I suppose I did.”


End file.
